


Rare is this love

by 80sjuicebox



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Genderswap, Oral Sex, PWP, tycutio but make it lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80sjuicebox/pseuds/80sjuicebox
Summary: “I swear if you debauch any of my furniture again it won’t just be a split lip.”





	Rare is this love

The sun had been setting when Tybalt returned to her room. The day’s errands had taken longer than she thought, and she sits at her vanity, worn, to find a shiny, wet patch on the corner of the oak table. A few inches above it, a red lipstick mark in a shade Tybalt found way too familiar. Mercutio. Just her name grinded against her nerves, a seemingly automatic response at this point. This wasn’t the first time she’s entered her room without an invitation, the princess having no consideration for her privacy whatsoever. Water? Puzzled, Tybalt stares at the clear patch with a frown, reaching down to run a finger through it. Not water. The cool fluid clung to the surface, forming a clear strand between Tybalt’s finger and the table. She rubs it between her fingers and brings it beneath her nose. Definitely not water. She swears as the curious location of it connects the dots, her hand immediately thrown to her side in disgust. This was a new line Mercutio has crossed, and revulsion builds in her chest. The image of Mercutio on her tiptoes, corner wedged between her legs while she rubs herself off surfaces in Tybalt’s mind and violated, she shakes it away. Despite her status, Mercutio didn’t seem to have a problem performing such lowly deeds. In fact, the freedom and lack of consequence just enabled her capricious acts. Wiping her hand against her pants, she storms out of the room and towards the Escalus palace. 

“Mercutio!” Tybalt growls as she hauls herself over the barriers of the balcony to Mercutio’s room. A warm glow illuminates the place, fading into the purple shadows Tybalt emerges from. Mercutio lay on her bed, donning a nightgown as she fiddles with the sheer sleeves. Aggravatingly, she visibly perks up at Tybalt’s voice, a smile spreading across her complexion. 

“Dear Tybalt, what brings y-” A hand slams against her throat and shoves her backwards, denying her efforts to sit up. 

“Don’t you think you should have some respect for yourself and others as royalty?” Tybalt spits, tightening the grip around Mercutio’s neck. “To intrude my private space and perform such perverse acts, have you not any shame?” 

Mercutio’s grin does not falter, and she laughs, a strangled sound. Tybalt has her trapped between the bed and her body, the weight of her upper body crushing Mercutio’s windpipe. Her hands reach up to wrap around Tybalt’s slender but strong wrists, a silent reminder that she wouldn’t be able to utter a word like this. It takes a moment for Tybalt to rip the control of her hands back from anger, and she loosens her grip. 

“I’ve missed you, I couldn’t help myself.” Mercutio confesses in between coughs. It could have been sweet, but the hint of laughter in her words only further infuriates Tybalt. It wasn’t a confession, it was a taunt.

“I have no time for your cheap antics.” 

Blind rage consumes Tybalt. Her fist collides with Mercutio’s lip and the taste of iron hits her tongue. Her eyes shut as she winces, and they open with a new unhinged spark. Her hands are instantly on Tybalt’s shirt collar, pulling her down and smashing their lips together. Tybalt makes a surprised noise and instinctively tries to pull back. Their lips are coloured crimson. Taking advantage of Tybalt’s moment of vulnerability, Mercutio grabs Tybalt’s arms and flips them so that Tybalt is now under her. 

“You are so blind as to take my honesty for mockery. I’ll…I’ll show you.” Mercutio says breathlessly, lips burning as she tries her best to hold down a struggling Tybalt. 

“How can you love without a heart? Let go of me!” 

Mercutio leans down and recklessly runs her tongue along Tybalt’s throat, peppering it with blossoms of red as she nibbles down her neck and collarbones. Her leg is stuck between Tybalt’s thighs, leaving no room between her knee and Tybalt’s crotch. Tybalt is squirming more than struggling at this point, so Mercutio unhands her to rip at her shirt buttons, unable to stop herself from covering each exposed inch of skin with her mouth. 

“What would your uncle say if he knew, whore?” Tybalt hisses, panting. Mercutio responds by brutally driving her knee up between Tybalt’s legs, which rips a moan out of her, and palms her exposed chest. 

“What, if he knew the Capulet niece gets off from being choked and abused?” Mercutio didn’t even try to conceal her smugness when she undid Tybalt’s belt, shoved her hand down her pants and felt how wet she was. Tybalt’s cheeks almost matched the blood on her lips, and she tangled her fingers into Mercutio’s long copper locks, yanking on it.

“If you don’t hurry up I’ll make sure you don’t leave this room conscious.” 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

Tybalt sighs, frustrated, but more turned on than anything else. She begins grinding against Mercutio’s unmoving fingers, lips parting to take a shaky breath everytime they slid against her clit. Mercutio watches for a moment, mesmerised by the sight of Tybalt pleasuring herself on her own hand. She cannot help but press another kiss onto her lips as her movements grew more desperate and daring, small sounds escaping her lips more frequently. 

“Can you take a fucking hint and move? I-It’s not enough.”

“If you ask nicely.” 

“…”

“Come on now, lovely Tybalt. Beg me for it.” 

Tybalt considered killing her right then and there. 

“…Please, Mercutio.” 

Mercutio slides one finger in her and her breath hitches.

“Keep going.”

“Please fuck me. Make me come.” Tybalt manages through gritted teeth. 

Mercutio grins, satisfied, and she pulls her hand out before tugging off her pants completely. The chilly air hits Tybalt’s lower body and goosebumps spread over her. Mercutio brings three coated fingers up to Tybalt’s lips and pushes them in, eyes fixed on Tybalt while she wipes them against her tongue, the fluids mixing with spit. With her mouth held open, Tybalt can feel saliva gradually running down her bottom lip and chin. 

“You’re filthy.” Mercutio mumbles, pushing her fingers to the back of Tybalt’s tongue and pulling them back out. Soreness was building up in her jaw and she was losing patience. With a glare, she clamps her teeth down and Mercutio hisses, withdrawing her hand. A sharp sting lands across her left cheek. A hand grabs her by the throat and fingers find their way back to her mouth. This time, they get jammed as far as they can go. Immediately, Tybalt starts gagging. 

“I thought of you, you know.” Her fingers don’t leave. Tybalt feels tears welling her eyes, and she cannot help the muscles frantically constricting in the back of her throat. Finally, Mercutio spares her and she lays coughing, attempting to catch her breath. She’s rendered a mess; eyes damp, cheek stinging and saliva runs down her jaw. 

“Fucking slut.” Tybalt mutters, hoarse. Mercutio rubs her fingers against Tybalt’s hole, pushing in two first. Tybalt exhales, the sensation of being filled more comforting than she’d want to admit. Mercutio starts scissoring them, watching them sink into her heat. There wasn’t much resistance, for she was embarrassingly wet, but it takes a few minutes for Tybalt to relax and open up, whimpering with each thrust. 

“I imagined you under me. Serving me. I know you like it, being used.” 

Mercutio adds the third digit and quickens her thrusting. She relishes Tybalt’s moans as she hooks her fingers within, sending electricity up her spine. Tybalt’s breasts didn’t go unnoticed, rosy nubs rubbed and pinched roughly between Mercutio’s fingers. It was sinful, the unmistakeable noises of sex echoing through the room. 

“Fuck, touch my clit, please.” Tybalt begs, and for once, Mercutio obeys. She’s pushing herself towards Mercutio to meet her thrusts, and with a high pitched whine, she comes. Mercutio feels the grip in her hair tighten while Tybalt jerks and twitches from her climax, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back against the bed. She was beautiful. Mercutio removes her fingers and brushes away the sleek dark hair stuck to Tybalt’s face, not resisting the urge to kiss her. Tybalt goes limp for a minute, trying to steady her breath. Sprawling herself atop Tybalt, Mercutio rests her head against Tybalt shoulder and sneaks a hand down between her legs, muffling her moans against Tybalt’s skin.

“Wait, stop. Let me...” Tybalt murmurs, realising what Mercutio was doing as the heavy haze of pleasure cleared her mind. Excruciatingly, Mercutio pulls her hand back. 

“How do you want me?” 

“Sit on my face.” 

Oh. Mercutio wasn’t complaining. She pushes herself up on her knees, night dress still hanging off her lithe frame, and shuffles forward so that the bottom of her dress conceals the Capulet’s face. Tybalt’s breath ghosts over her and Mercutio’s heart threatens to burst out of her chest. She was dripping. She holds onto the headboard for some support, thighs trembling and trying to avoid catching the dark locks beneath her knees. Tybalt’s face is hidden within the feathery material of her dress and she holds onto Mercutio’s thighs, guiding her downwards, albeit a little quickly. It draws a sigh from above, and Tybalt is reassured enough to plunge into the task, lapping and sucking fervently. A string of swears and moans leave Mercutio’s lips as she grinds down on Tybalt’s tongue, the relentless position drowning her in ecstasy. Mercutio could cry. The bed frame creaked with her movements, whatever’s left of her rational thinking reminding her to not suffocate Tybalt beneath her. 

“Oh Tybalt, I’m close.” Mercutio cries. Whether it was the lack of oxygen or euphoria at work here, Tybalt could only cling onto Mercutio’s thighs and eat her out like her life depended on it. Not a bad way to go. Tybalt thinks, tearing her hands from Mercutio’s thighs and tracing them up her torso instead to twist on her nipples. With a shout, Mercutio’s orgasm hits her. She rides it out on Tybalt’s lips, the front of her dress bunched within her fist so Tybalt has a view. Overstimulation sinks in with each thrust, and soon Mercutio is forced to roll to the side to lay boneless against the sheets. Her chest heaves and Tybalt sits up, looking just as a mess, lips and jaw glossy and dripping. Both take a moment to wind down, the silence that hung in the air too comfortable for supposed enemies. 

“I swear if you debauch any of my furniture again it won’t just be a split lip.” Tybalt wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and reaches for her clothes. Mercutio laughs, hollow, the cut on her swollen bottom lip threatening to tear. 

“I do agree your face was a better seat than that table corner.” Mercutio teases, the amusement not quite reaching her gaze.

Tybalt rolls her eyes and tugs on her pants, only for fair hands to stop her and azure eyes come into view. Lips press against hers, soft, apologetic even, and her jaw falls open the slightest. 

“Stay the night.” The words were whispered, unwavering, but nothing in those eyes escapes Tybalt. It was a plead. Ache suddenly blooms in the chasm that is Tybalt’s chest, and she cups Mercutio’s jaw, strands of gold laced between her fingers, as she closes the distance between them. 

Three words hover in the air, but none spoken that night.

  



End file.
